"The end of confession is to tell the truth to and for oneself." — J. M. Coetzee
"Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God." — 1 John 4:15
I think we confuse confession with apology. I frequently hear men say they must confess, only to proceed and tell God they are 'sorry.'
An apology is not a confession; they are similar but not the same thing. When you apologize, you express regret for something true—something that happened—an action, a careless word, blatant evil.
A confession is simply stating something true. To confess something means to speak the truth. Can you confess something you did wrong? Absolutely. And you should (Psalm 32:5; James 5:16). But, more often than not, confession has little to do with what you did wrong and more to do with what you need.
As Christians, we are called to be people of perpetual confession. One of my favorite theologians believed that the Christian life should be anchored in confession (Bonhoeffer). Not only confessing our sins but also confessing all that is true about us, true about God, and true about His word.
Imagine what this would look like:
Before starting your day, you confess, "Lord, I love you. You are good. Your mercies are new every morning. You are my rock and my shield, my hope is in you."
Before entering your meeting/presentation/interview, you confess, "Lord, I need you. I feel inadequate. I feel ill-prepared. Lord, I need your help."
As finances get tight, you confess, "Lord, I have not been the best steward. I'm unsure how we will make it, but we know we will. Take us to the other side. You feed the birds of the air and clothe the lilies of the field. How much more will you do for those that you love?"
As you face pain and loss, you confess, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
As you bring a well-worn day to a close, you confess, "The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance."
All day, every day, we offer up these confessions, silent prayers that please the Lord. Every day there are a hundred different times, in a hundred different ways, that we should be confessing. Imagine how light and free we would be. Every burden. Every setback. Every advance. Every victory becomes an opportunity to acknowledge the character and promises of God.
The beauty of confession is that it unearths whatever is inside of us. It brings our guilt, hope, shame, strength, sadness, doubt, fear, love, and inadequacies into the light. In the light, that which is good grows—that which is not good begins to fade away. Confessing your love for God helps you grow in love towards God. Confessing your fears and doubts puts God on notice and allows His Spirit to work in and on you.This is why biblically (and theologically) confession often leads to repentance. And true repentance makes way for transformation.
"Confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I feel stronger for confession" — Mahatma Gandhi
Talk to Yourself
When Martin Lloyd Jones wrote Spiritual Depression, he said every "Christian should listen to himself less and talk to himself more..." Instead of listening to the lies we believe about ourselves, we should speak God's truth over our lives (and the lives of others).
In a way, Jones was advocating for confession. If confession is stating a truth, then yes, absolutely, we should always talk to ourselves. Constantly speaking God's truths over ourselves is the only way to fight the lies of our enemy.
"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." — Mark Twain
Confession
Allow me to confess. This weekend, I was not a good husband [or father]. It is wild how one moment can ruin an otherwise tremendous weekend.
I took my oldest son to a men's event outside San Antonio. The men who attended the event were like-hearted and open to the Spirit's work. It was easily one of the best events I've done this year. I got to spend time with my son and charge up a group of men in the way they should go as dads, husbands, and followers of King Jesus.
On Sunday, I made the five-hour journey back home. I was tired, spiritually and emotionally. It was a good tired but tired nonetheless. When I opened my front door, my good tired quickly turned into a bad tired. My wife was exhausted from having my toddlers all weekend, and she did not greet me with the level of enthusiasm I thought she would. Her remarks felt like complaints. My boys, ecstatic to see me, immediately wanted to wrestle, run, fight, and jump all over me. Their actions and volume were turned up to 11. My newly minted teenage daughter didn't even notice I was home. And the house? It was a wreck from the boys playing all weekend.
No one could agree on what to have for dinner, and finally, after allowing the frustration and hunger to win, I went and picked up takeout, and everyone got what I wanted. Food in hand, as I was pulling into my drive, the drink carrier slid off my console, dumping copious amounts of Coke Zero everywhere inside my truck.
I lost it—and ruined the night.
Nowhere did I speak the truth or practice confession. I kept everything inside until I couldn't. Not once did I ask for God's help, my wife's help, or the Holy Spirit's help. Not once did I tell Him my needs or cling to His promises. I didn't talk to myself. Instead, I yelled and cursed at everyone and everything in my way.
The result? Lots of apologies. I am still apologizing today, actually. Which is another gem in the crown of confession: more often than not, regularly talking to yourself [and God] saves you from apologizing later.
— Harp
This blog originally appeared on Good Trouble, Chris Harper's personal blog.
